


By Chance, A Miracle

by jumpstarts, kittylovesbambi



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-16 13:04:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20818967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jumpstarts/pseuds/jumpstarts, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittylovesbambi/pseuds/kittylovesbambi
Summary: Apparently, Changmin's idea of a first impression is to start with, “Hey, if there’s cultists out there… I gotta let you know, my pal has a water gun.” Considering they meet each other for the first time at a wedding, it's not the most impressive of pick-up lines.Yunho falls for it anyway.





	By Chance, A Miracle

**Author's Note:**

> this is basically an rp log carried over from tumbr between me and ching. :D i write yunho, while she does changmin, and it's taken us wayyy too long to get this done hahahsfkjdnfd
> 
> enjoy! !! !!!

.

There’s nothing quite as beautiful as a wedding, a celebration of love and promises and happily ever afters, and Yunho enthusiastically cheers along with the rest of the crowd when they’re announced husband and wife. The cheers get even louder when the groom kisses his blushing bride without waiting for the minister’s prompting and it’s followed by the usual scuffle for the thrown hand bouquet. Yunho didn’t expect catching it though, but they insist that he keeps the arrangement of sweet-smelling flowers and it’s not as if he was in any position to refuse.

He does have to excuse himself once he realises someone had spilled red wine onto him during the commotion. The kitchen is deserted by the time he makes his way inside and he goes straight for the sink, slipping out of his jacket to inspect the damage. Just a wet patch, on dark-blue fabric. It wouldn’t stain too much, he hopes. Yunho places the bouquet on the marble countertop and turns on the tap, grinning to himself when he sees the newlyweds slow waltzing across the lawn, too immersed in each other to notice anyone else.

Must be nice, to be that much in love.

“Hey, if there’s cultists out there… I gotta let you know, my pal has a water gun.”

Yunho almost lets out an embarrassing squeak, startled by the sudden proposition. 

“Cultists?” he parrots, brows creasing in confusion. His eyes flicker to the crowd milling about outside, resplendent in bright colours and joy. And then back to the stranger, who’s tall and very, very good-looking and wow, he’s getting sidetracked right now. “I’m sorry- what?”

He snickers, the sound deep and throaty, and pushes himself off the wall he was leaning on. He moves towards Yunho, his eyes never breaking contact, the heels of his dress shoes clicking steadily against polished marble. 

Click, click, click. 

He stops right in front of Yunho, sandwiching the man between himself and the metal counter. He smiles, eyes crinkling just slightly, polite and distanced, and regards the man in front of him for a moment.

“Don’t you think so,” he comments, eyes still stuck on the man before him as he nods towards the couple, breaking into laughter as the bride accidentally trips into the arms of the groom. “It’s almost cult-like, the obsession with getting married. It looks pretty now, but that piece of paper doesn’t mean anything at the end of the day, if they aren’t meant to be together.”

Yunho’s brows furrow in confusion, his lips part in offence. Changmin has always been good at reading people, his attention to detail impeccable. But this man seems to be particularly easy to read, his dark eyes betraying nothing and his body language dramatic. He’s amusing, Changmin thinks, and ridiculously attractive. He has legs that goes on for days and his facial features are delicate, but what draws Changmin in the most are the pure innocence and foolish steadfastness to romantic fantasies that had dictated every line of movement in his body in response to his denial of the sanctity of marriages. 

It’s ironic, really, his attraction to those who believed that a moment’s impulsion and a crumpled piece of A4 could tide two people through sickness and health, through life and death. 

“I’m sorry, that was abrupt,” Changmin concedes, apology only half sincere. He may be bitter, but he shouldn’t be going about ruining his ex’s wedding like this. Probably.

“I’m Changmin,” He continues, reaching his hand out for a shake. “A guest of the bride’s.”

Yunho accepts the proffered hand, too polite to do anything else. “Jung Yunho,” he says, with a slight incline of his head. “I’m Hyunsoo’s friend.”

He didn’t notice Changmin in the crowd earlier, although he’s quite sure he’d seen everyone and it would be hard to miss someone as tall as the other man. Yunho isn’t sure why he was approached, but Changmin’s cutting words only serve to make him bristle with indignation. In a world that’s largely grown cynical before its time, there are too many instances where he was accused of being a romantic. As if it’s a slur, an insult. He doesn’t think much of it - there’s nothing wrong with believing in happily ever afters, nothing wrong with wanting to love and be loved.

It’s easy to miss the slight undertone of bitterness in Changmin’s voice, but Yunho is close enough that he can read its residual shadow in those large, beautiful eyes. There’s a story lurking behind his new acquaintance’s lack of belief in the marriage institution and a very loud part of him wants to find out. Call it curiosity or concern. Or maybe he’s already being pulled into Changmin’s orbit, helpless to resist. 

It still doesn’t excuse the utter wrongness of that sentiment and he’s determined to rectify that. 

“I’d have to disagree, Changmin-sshi.” He folds his jacket over an arm, standing straighter under the weight of Changmin’s scrutiny. “Marriage is more than just a piece of paper. It’s a promise between two people, for better or for worse. And I would really appreciate it if you would keep your opinion to yourself, especially since we’re all here to celebrate our friends’ wedding.”

The tips of his shoes bump against Changmin’s and Yunho is suddenly aware of their proximity. And that, in his attempt to prove Changmin wrong, he’d moved closer to the man.

Heat rushes to his cheeks, settling just under his skin.

Too close. 

He could almost feel Yunho’s breath on his skin before the tip of their shoes bumped, and then he was holding his breath.

Ah, he must have realised it too.

Changmin contemplates for a while, his heart skipping uncomfortably fast and his fingers itching to reach out to pull the man closer.

He takes a step back instead.

Changmin is taken aback, really. He has met plenty of other attractive men in his lifetime, Hyunsoo included. But his attraction to them had never been this instant, this electric. He was never a ‘love at first sight’ type of guy, scorned at the idea of it, and yet here he is, helplessly flustered by some random stranger who waltzed into the corner where he was brooding while holding a bouquet, reducing him into some hormonal, inexperienced teenager. 

Truly, don’t get him started on how utterly ridiculous it is that a grown ass man can actually look this adorable with blush on his cheeks.

Yunho is different though other men though, inexplicably so. Perhaps it was how defenseless he was at the face of a stranger, his eyes unguarded and emotions laid plain for anyone who bothered to read. Perhaps it was because of the concern written in the furrow of his brows and the sadness in his eyes even when this stranger was full of contempt and negativity. 

For the second time in his life, he questions his judgement of people. Is it possible for someone to be so untainted in this world full of cynicism?

He isn’t sure if he’s ready to give that benefit of the doubt, his heart is already full of scars.

“Yeah, well, to each his own.” He stuffs his hands into his pockets, fingers twitching to reach out and touch, and schools his expression. He has to get out of here before he does anything stupid. “But you’ve got one thing wrong, I’m neither here to celebrate nor am I either of their friends.”

He turns around, thinking it’ll make it easier to leave if Yunho was out of his sight.

“It was nice meeting you, but I would have to excuse myself now.”

It doesn’t. 

The near nonexistent space between them is suddenly a chasm and Yunho finds himself reeling, chest clenched tight at Changmin’s withdrawal. What little moment they’d shared just seconds ago shatter into tiny, china pieces and the world comes rushing back into focus. Laughter from the courtyard. The approaching footsteps of the catering staff. Clinks of glasses, champagne all around. Yunho turns a darker shade of red when he’s reminded that they’re still in someone else’s kitchen, in the middle of someone else’s ceremony.

It almost feels sacrilegious for him to wish they’re somewhere more private.

He studies Changmin’s face, those sharp cheekbones and sharper eyes. And something inside him aches. 

He asks, softly, before Changmin can get too far, “Then why are you here?”

He stops, automatically, his body concurring with his unfounded sentiment that he somehow owes this stranger an explanation for his behaviour. He doesn’t want to reopen his wounds though, refuses to let someone poke at his scars when they have yet to even heal over. 

And he guesses it’s the last thing he can do as a lover, that is to keep their pact of keeping their relationship a secret, even if it was probably just a ploy for that asshole to date other women during concurrently. 

He slides on a mask, deceptively flawless and put together, and turns around to face the man.

He makes sure that his scars are well-hidden from those perceptive eyes. 

“For free food obviously,” He smirks. “And booze.”

Yunho frowns, but he isn’t in any place to argue. It’s not as if he’d known Changmin long enough to call him out for what sounded like a deflection and while he can be persistent to the point of obstinacy (an observation Hyunsoo scathingly pointed out on several occasions), this is hardly the time to do so. One of the catering staff walk past them, armed with two trays of chocolate-smothered mini croissants, and they should probably get back to the celebration. Wouldn’t do to miss out the toasts.

Slipping on his jacket again to hide the damp patch underneath, Yunho grabs the bouquet.

And steps towards Changmin, letting an elbow purposely brush against the other man.

“Those are excellent reasons to attend a wedding,” he says, in a concerted effort to make lighthearted conversation. Intent on not allowing Changmin an easy escape. “So, you’re Kyunghee’s guest? How did you know her?” He turns to squint at Changmin’s face. “How old are you?”

Changmin appreciated the gesture. He saw the dissatisfaction flash across Yunho’s features, his desire to reach out and tear off Changmin’s mask palpable. He was almost afraid that Yunho would press on, his scars fresh and mask fragile, he wasn’t sure if it would have stayed on if he did.

It would have been a disaster, he thinks, eyeing the staff passing by, especially since he had to leave the safety of his corner in the kitchen soon. 

They have already torn him from limb to limb, left him out to bake and then had the face to come back to laugh at him. No way, there’s no fucking way he’s going to let them have the satisfaction of seeing him bathe in misery.

“I knew Kyunghee-ssi from college.” He wonders if the contact was on purpose. “We both studied history. Took a class with her once, and became group mates with her and Hyunsoo.” 

His demeanor was nonchalant, having already detached himself from the memories that he had been pulling apart a few weeks ago, refusing to remember the pain in his chest when he pieced them together and saw how everything fell into place. It had been obvious, then and now, he was just too blind to see it, too in love. 

Not anymore, at the very least.

Cheers suddenly erupt from the outside as the bride and groom picks up their microphones, the waiters hustling around with wine bottles and refilling glasses. That’s his cue to go back.

“Looks like the toasts are starting soon.” Changmin puts an arm behind his back and holds out the other. He’s going to find out if that contact from earlier was intentional.

“Would you allow me to accompany you outside?”

He holds his breath and hopes.

Yunho had met both Hyunsoo and Kyunghee through some mutual friends from work a couple years ago and when they invited him to their wedding, he wasn’t about to refuse. He wonders why Changmin had never hung out with them before, but figures he runs in a different circle. Which is a pity, since Yunho would’ve liked knowing more about him. Learning what makes him tick, what would’ve pulled out a genuine smile from the other man.

Not the glass-and-glitter grin; pretty, but one that doesn’t reach his eyes and looks almost like an afterthought on Changmin’s face.

Yunho is so intent on staring that the offered arm catches him off-guard.

It’s a gesture both charming and bewildering, and he can’t help the heat that rushes to his cheeks. He’s thrown off-kilter by Changmin’s mercurial nature - who shifts with chameleon ease, going from playful to aloof and now, standing in the corner of the kitchen, soft-spoken words lingering between them like an invitation to something else.

It’s instinctive for Yunho to reach out and twine his arm with Changmin’s.

Only a few minutes of acquaintance and he already finds himself unable to deny Changmin anything.

“Of course.” Yunho sees a glimpse of them on a mirrored surface as they head out of the kitchen. Two men in suits, walking hand in hand, and a bouquet of flowers clasped in his fingers. In another universe, this could’ve been their wedding. He rips up the thought as soon as it surfaces, startled by the intensity of it, and laughs shakily. “I’m not gonna have to fight off your date, right?”

The crowd has gathered around the newlyweds and they’re the last to arrive. Yunho sees Kyunghee’s face turning towards them and before he can wave at her, he’s struck by the split second of cold hate in her eyes. It’s gone in a heartbeat when the emcee hands her a microphone, but Yunho knows for a fact the look isn’t meant for him. He presses closer to Changmin, sliding down his hand so he can thread their fingers together. 

“What was that all about?”

Changmin, evidently, doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing. 

He’s running mainly on caffeine and alcohol, but even he knows that this is most likely a bad idea.

The unfortunate thing is that his body acted before his brain did. 

Here he is, at his bastard ex’s wedding with his serpent of a fiancee, and at some point in time his instincts convinces him that he should latch on to some friendly stranger who, yes, is extremely attractive on the outside and most likely the inside as well, but who is also a friend of the very two people he should want to see burn on a stake right now.

The fact that he exists, is evidence that Darwin’s theory isn’t all that foolproof.

He can’t deny how his heart did a little heel-click when Yunho slide his arm into his though.

“I’m not gonna have to fight off your date, right?”

Changmin genuinely laughs, caught off guard. For a moment, just one, short and fleeting, he forgets about all the bullshit that he had been put through for the past couple of weeks, forgets about the hellfire awaiting for him outside.

Kind of just like, he’s on a normal date, with someone cute.

“Well, I kind of hoped that I didn’t come off as that much of an asshole.”

The feeling left as fast as it came, the cheers outside settling on him like a ton of bricks.

They were the last to arrive, the waiters immediately approaching them with a tray of half-filled champagne glasses and the two of them take a flute each. He thanks the waiter and looks up on stage, his eyes going straight to Hyunsoo.

For the hundredth time, Changmin wonders if he was ever loved.

Yunho presses closer and slips his hand into his, squeezing. 

Changmin squeezes back, exhaling shakily, his shoulders relaxing and back straightening.

He realises that Hyunsoo doesn’t deserve any of it. Not his sadness, not his desperation. 

And he realises that he deserves much more than a man who doesn’t love him.

“Who knows?” Changmin tightens his grip on Yunho’s hand and pulls him closer. He raises his glass command, a smile touching his lips.

“Maybe she’s just jealous.”

Yunho is still puzzling over the look in Kyunghee’s eyes when he’s pulled closer, his shoulder bumping Changmin’s and hands still clasped together. They’re almost as tall, a few inches apart, but that matters little. They slot together too perfectly for it to be coincidental. Even surrounded by other guests, it feels as though they’ve carved out a little universe of their own and Yunho isn’t sure what this is supposed to mean.

If Changmin is just bored and in need of company, or—

—Yunho’s fingers curl tighter around the small bouquet. 

He’d heard Changmin’s laughter. Warm and unexpected, and it made his eyes crinkle into half-moons, his generous mouth shaped around that lovely sound. He looked younger when haloed in mirth for those too-short seconds and Yunho had been disappointed when that laughter dissipated once they joined the crowd. As if chased away by the same thing that had prompted his rather crude observation about the sanctity of marriage. 

It’s perhaps a little bit selfish, but Yunho decides he wants to hear that laughter again.

“She’s the one getting married. There’s no reason for her to get jealous,” he points out in a half-whisper, turning his face towards Changmin. The smile he sees there sends warmth curling in the pit of his stomach. Until a thought wriggles its way into his head. He squints at Changmin, “— Wait. Did you and Kyunghee—?”

Changmin feels inexplicably more confident, comforted, with Yunho right next to him.

It’s probably just because he’s glad he doesn’t have to face this alone, he tells himself.

He spots the bouquet in Yunho’s hand from the corner of his eye and suddenly becomes very aware of Yunho’s fingers between his.

He shoves the thought out of his head.

Or at least he tries.

_“She’s the one getting married. There’s no reason for her to get jealous.”_

Changmin shrugs in reply, distracted. He kind of wants to see how they look like now, two men pressed together shoulder to shoulder, their fingers threaded tight, one of them looking radiant beneath the glow of the sun and holding a bouquet.

He disagrees, he thinks that anyone would be jealous just looking at them. Should be.

He squares his shoulders, his corners of his lips lifting as he presses his lips together. He really shouldn’t be feeling so cocky about that image in his head.

Ah, but fuck it, he’s at least allowed to strut up on stage with Yunho in his arm and take over the wedding in his own damn imagination right?

Then he feels Yunho’s fingers loosen.

“Wait. Did you and Kyunghee-?”

Changmin looks at him, confused, not getting the question at first as he mourns at the lost of contact. What does he even mea-

Oh.

No no no-

“No no no, of course not!” Changmin exclaims, scandalised and honestly, plain offended. He has very frankly once contemplated about locking her in a room full of poisonous snakes where she belongs and gOD NOW HE HAS THE IMAGE OF MARRYING THAT WITCH AND— 

“She is literally the antithesis of ‘my type’. Don’t worry.”

Changmin turns to face the stage again, fixing his eyes on the flower arch instead of the people on the stage and trying to scrub his brain clean from the visuals he had just conjured up. His power of visualisation is truly his downfall, he would do anything to rid th— 

Wait, did he just tell him not to worry?

Changmin’s indignant outburst, a turnabout from the calm and collected facade he’d worn so far, and the way his entire face scrunches are enough to startle Yunho into a fit of loud laughter. It’s too late to muffle the sound and before he knows it, they’ve attracted the attention of the crowd and the newlyweds. Who are still in the midst of addressing their friends and family members. Yunho inclines his head and flashes apologetic smiles to the guests around them, mortified to have barged into a moment that should’ve belonged to the newlyweds. Most just shake their heads and give them indulgent grins; a few of the younger ones even start giggling.

Yunho’s pretty sure his face is the colour of a ripe tomato.

And he’s still holding Changmin’s hand, heart’s making gymnastic manoeuvres inside his chest as he remembers Changmin’s casual ‘don’t worry’. As if he’d somehow seen the little green monster lurking behind Yunho’s question. His answer does enough to make Yunho regret asking and he wonders if Changmin’s offended by it. He steals a glance at the other man’s face, but there’s nothing there to read. Slightly disappointed, he turns to the stage.

Only to wince in surprise, barely able to resist the urge to take a step back.

Kyunghee’s expression can only be described as glacial, made worse by the thinning of her red, red lips and the storm brewing in her eyes. No longer the friendly, if slightly arrogant sales executive Yunho had known for the last couple of months. Hyunsoo seems a lot more composed, staring at Yunho and Changmin with an unreadable expression on his face. The emcee is inviting the two families to the stage for pictures, but even as the crowd start to move around the new arrangement, Yunho can’t shake the feeling that he’d done something monumentally wrong.

It’s upsetting, if he’d somehow ruined Hyunsoo and Kyunghee’s special moment. Even if he doesn’t understand ‘how’ or ‘why’. He untangles his fingers from Changmin’s, immediately missing the warmth, but is too distracted by his worries to give it much notice.

“I think I have to go,” he says, lips curling downwards. He’d like nothing more than to spend the entire wedding by Changmin’s side, getting to know him better and perhaps asking him out for coffee later, but— his eyes stray to the newlyweds, finding it disconcerting that Hyunsoo is still looking at them. Mustering a smile for Changmin, he adds, hopeful, “I’ll see you around, Changmin-sshi?” 

Yunho’s laughter is brilliant, something like fireworks in the starless nights that he has been used to seeing for a while. 

But it is also like a whiplash, snapping him back to the reality of the situation as everyone turns to look at them. 

If he were attending a wedding of a treasured friend with his boyfriend as his plus one, he would probably have placed a hand on Yunho’s waist and pulled him closer while apologising to everyone with a polite smile, and maybe even direct an apologetic nod to the bride and the groom for momentarily stealing their thunder.

But he wasn’t. Far from it, his gaze immediately snaps to Kyunghee. 

And she meets his head on. 

Any form of expression immediately slips off his face as he returns her ice cold glare with a nonchalant look, knowing that it’ll rile her up even further.

He’s glad that they have stolen their thunder, that they have caused some form of disturbance to what is meant to be their perfect day, petty as it may be. It’s a miserable sort of revenge, but it’s something to gloat about nonetheless.

He patronises her with a smile, the corners of his lips lifted but not quite reaching his eyes. 

All he hears is the blood rushing through his ears.

He tries to find courage again, his fingers moving to tighten around Yunho’s but the man abruptly pulls away instead.

Changmin immediately turns to look, first at his empty hand, and then up at Yunho. He suddenly feels a whole lot emptier inside than before.

“I think I’ll have to go.” 

_Please don’t._

Yunho’s gaze shifts, Changmin follows.

And he meets Hyunsoo’s gaze.

Fuck.

This is the first time that he looked at him the entire afternoon.

“I’ll see you around, Changmin-sshi?” 

He is still looking at Hyunsoo, sees the curiosity, the indignation, the jealousy.

He tears his gaze away, his breath becoming shorter, his fingers closing around nothing, and stares at the buttons on Yunho’s shirt.

_I don’t think I want to be alone right now, I don’t think I can._

“Sure.”

It’s cracking, his mask is.

Despite his words, Yunho doesn’t move from his spot beside Changmin. There’s something in the slip of Changmin’s expression in that half-second, a fracture of some sort, that holds him fast. That makes it impossible to walk away. He sees the clench of Changmin’s fingers, the way he refuses to meet Yunho’s eyes, and apprehension coils through the residual warmth in the pit of his stomach.

He glances at Hyunsoo again, who had turned away to say something to his bride and his mother-in-law. 

What was that all about?

A few of his friends are gesturing him over, probably to take pictures, but he smiles and urges them to go on without him. The look of confusion he gets in return makes him wince inwardly, already thinking about the apology he’d have to make later. But another glance at Hyunsoo and the stiff line of Changmin’s spine, and Yunho makes his mind.

“Changmin-sshi? Are you—” okay, he wants to ask, but it seems presumptuous. He still doesn’t understand what’s going on and he doubts he’d get his answer from either of them. At least not right then and there. Instead, he smooths a palm over Changmin’s chest, trying to coax Changmin’s eyes back to him. “Do you wanna get a drink?” His voice lowers. “Sit down, maybe?”

“No, I’m okay.”

Changmin wouldn’t call himself a liar, but he definitely isn’t a completely selfish ass either. He knows his mask is slipping, disintegrating beyond his control, and he knows that Yunho sees it. It surprises him rather belatedly about how well Yunho can read him.

And how much he cares. 

It makes his heart skip a beat, his mind flashing images of an imagined future of having Yunho by his side, him carefully reciprocating every little bit that Yunho gives him and more.

But imagination is all it is, and Yunho is still a stranger. 

“Go with your friends.” He wraps his hand loosely around his bicep and nudges him towards the direction of his friends. 

When Yunho refuses to budge, he finally looks up. It was kind of like seeing a rainbow after a thunderstorm, the rain clouds dissipating and the sun rays slowly warming his skin. He still feels like shit, somewhere deep inside, like a demon locked in a cage, ready to wreck havoc once the chains loosen. But for now, in front of Yunho, he realises that he can smile, genuine and sincere.

His body and his mind work in opposition as his fingers tightens around his bicep while he opens his mouth to ask Yunho to leave again.

But the words don’t come out.

Changmin might’ve told him to go but the grip on his hand anchors Yunho in place, holding onto him like a lifeline. The underlying brittleness in the curl of Changmin’s mouth burrows under his skin and he finds it harder to move, to look away. To even think of leaving Changmin behind. There’s that glass-and-glitter facade again, cracks running through it, and it seems to be a habit: saying one thing, but meaning another. Just like in the kitchen before. Yunho wonders why the facade is necessary at all.

He wonders if Changmin will ever trust him enough to share.

“I don’t have to,” he says instead, stepping a fraction closer. To soothe his own nerves or Changmin’s, he can’t even tell. He does it anyway, despite knowing full well that their time is running out. Soon, he can no longer ignore the rest of the world and the thought of walking away, to lose Changmin in the crowd is suddenly too terrifying. “If you want me to stay.”

It’s brazen, straightforward. Yunho doesn’t know how to be anything else.

As if on cue, the first strain of music floats from the speakers around them. A large space had been cleared out for the newlyweds, and Yunho sees from the corner of his eyes how Hyunsoo and Kyunghee are already in each other’s embrace, swaying slowly to the song’s crooning sweetness. The rest of the guests are too busy enjoying the sight to notice two of their number hidden away to the side, under the overhanging branches of a tree off to the side.

Smiling with a confidence he doesn’t actually feel, Yunho loops Changmin’s hands around his waist. His own rest on Changmin’s broad shoulders, palming the expensive, well-cut fabric of the suit jacket.

Changmin does have very nice shoulders.

He tilts his face to watch Changmin’s expression. “This is okay, right?”

Slow music drifts in, and the little enclave that they are taking shelter in, masked in the shadows of an old willow tree, becomes infinitely more intimate. As Yunho pulls him close, his smile almost as bright as ever, Changmin’s gaze skitters, feeling the air rush out of his lungs. His fingers clutch his dance partner’s suit tight in reflex before he quickly lets go, and lets them lay awkward as he can’t decide if he should reciprocate Yunho’s interest. 

Changmin isn’t used to this, being the one being led. He’s usually sure of himself, preferring to be straightforward with his thoughts rather than beating around the bush. But being here, at his ex’s wedding with his wounds still gaping, his cuts still bleeding fresh through loose stitches, he is simultaneously furthest from how he usually is and the truest form of who he is. 

And he hates it. He hates when he’s all vulnerable and weak, he hates that feeling of crumbling apart and crying tears for himself. It’s pitiful and shameful, and he’s anything but. 

But there’s just something about all of this, about the quiet love song promising ‘happily ever after’s that he has never believed in, about how the shadows that they are hiding in somehow dim out everyone else instead, about how Yunho holds him close and looks at him as if he’s the most precious thing in the world, even with the fissures on his mask and the imperfections showing through. 

He wants him to stay so much, and he makes it so easy. 

He isn’t sure if things like love is meant to come this easy. 

Yunho tilts his head, and he lifts his, their eyes meeting.

_“This is okay, right?”_

That’s not a question Changmin can answer.

But he can answer the previous one.

“I don’t have to, if you want me to stay.”

He wraps his arms around Yunho’s waist and pulls him into an embrace, his face pressing against his shoulder. He doesn’t make a sound or any other movement. He simply stays still, and cries.

When he’s pulled into the embrace, Yunho’s heart stutters for a few beats, surprised to find himself engulfed in Changmin’s warmth, the entirety of his existence. Faintly, he registers the change of tempo, music picking up into something more joyous and laughter rises in a choir around them. It’s a chastise, as good as any. They’re supposed to be celebrating. But when Changmin tucks his face into Yunho’s shoulder, as if he trusts Yunho with his deepest, darkest secrets, the only thing Yunho can do (wants to do) is to hold him tighter. Wraps his arms around Changmin’s shoulder, offering comfort the only way he knows how.

He isn’t a stranger to grief and wonders, in a moment of ugly selfishness, who’s lucky enough to be loved so dearly by the younger man. And stupid enough to break his heart. He can feel the damp patch where Changmin’s tears have soaked through and brings a hand up to cup the back of Changmin’s neck, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles against the soft skin there. They’re nowhere as private as he would’ve liked; he doesn’t want anyone else to look over and see this moment of weakness. Slowly, he coaxes Changmin to the other side of the tree, unwilling to pull away far enough to break the embrace. He’s forced to do it anyway when the shuffling gets too awkward, but he keeps a hand on Changmin’s arm. 

His chest feels too tight when he sees Changmin’s red-rimmed eyes, a surge of protectiveness rising like a vicious tide inside him. 

He keeps his back to the crowd. The wedding doesn’t matter, not anymore.

“Let’s get out of here.” 

He wasn’t sure how it happened, what route they took and if anyone spotted them. He just kept his eyes ahead, fixed at the back of Yunho’s head as the other man led him out of the venue.

What he knows is that he’s currently sitting in a quaint little coffee shop tucked away in the corner of a bustling street, a warm cup of tea cupped in his palms. 

The first thing he notices is how the tips of his fingers are becoming numb with cold, the aircon blowing strong overhead, that he realises that he has already been staring at the people walking past the glass window for the past half an hour. 

“I’m sorry,” He chuckles nervously, eyes still cast down. He isn’t sure what to tell Yunho, now that they’re here. “I must be wasting your time.”

Yunho isn’t exactly known for being able to stay put for more than ten minutes in one sitting, but it’s easy to lose track of time as he keeps an eye on Changmin. The other man is quiet and subdued, an entirely different person than the one he’d first encountered in the kitchen, and the last hour feels like a lifetime away. He’d texted his friends to let them know that he’s in the cafe and tucked his phone away before they can ask too many questions.

His eyes skitter to the small bouquet, sitting prettily next to his cup of lukewarm coffee. 

And almost jolts when the silence that’s lingered between them is broken.

“You’re not,” he says, firmly. Changmin isn’t looking at him, eyes downcast and the ache inside his chest intensifies. Yunho doesn’t second guess himself often, but maybe he’d been too presumptuous. Maybe Changmin doesn’t even want to be here with him. He hesitates, before reaching out to curve a hand over Changmin’s. “Are you okay?” 

It isn’t because Yunho is a stranger that he had met just a little over an hour ago, but it’s just because he feels tired. Crying over his asshole of an ex was the last thing he wanted to show anyone, let alone Yunho, but it’s also something he felt like he owed the man, for being by his side unquestioningly for the past hour. He knows that he owes Yunho an explanation, something to account for the facade that he had tried to put on, an utterly useless one that Yunho saw right through.

But he’s tired. Physically, and emotionally.

“Yeah,” Changmin says, finally looking up at him. He sees the concern written in his eyes, hears the hesitation in his voice. A pang of guilt hits. “I’m okay.”

He doesn’t offer an explanation, he can do that another day. Instead, he reaches out his hands and holds one of Yunho’s, fingers curling gently around his hand. It was warm and hard with calluses over his palm and fingers. He wonders what their stories are as his fingers subconsciously tighten around his hand.

“Thank you for everything today,” He says. He smiles to himself a little, a sudden shyness coming over him, before continuing, “I’m sorry I had to show such an uncool side of me on our first meeting.”

The ache in Yunho’s chest is replaced by warmth, going into full bloom in the spaces between his ribcage, the height of spring humming under his skin as he looks at their clasped hands. It still unnerves him how easily he finds himself giving into Changmin’s presence, to let himself be pulled into orbit. The gravity in those large eyes pin him in place and he finds that he doesn’t mind, as long as it keeps the smile on Changmin’s face.

It’s infinitely better than the shattered glass mirrored in Changmin’s eyes before.

Yunho returns the smile, offering reassurance the only way he knows how. He isn’t privy of the history behind Changmin’s unexpected breakdown and it isn’t his place to pry. Not here, not now. Not when it still seems much too raw for the other man. So he’s content to simply sit across him, holding hands as if they mean more than just mere acquaintances to each other. 

“You were offering to water gun nonexistent cultists,” Yunho points out, trying to steer the conversation into shallower water. He tilts his head and grins. “As first impressions go, I don’t think you can get any worse than that.”

Stifled giggling makes him look to the other side of the cafe and he blinks at a group of girls, who are not so subtly looking at them. He can tell what they’re thinking and feels his cheeks getting warm, but instead of pulling away, he holds onto Changmin’s hand tighter. He wonders if that makes him look like a possessive boyfriend, but finds that he doesn’t really mind. His phone chooses that moment to vibrate against his thigh and reluctantly, Yunho fishes it out to check the message. He frowns when he sees that they’re already waiting for him — they’d travelled down here together for the wedding and he’s their designated driver. 

His time, it seems, has finally run out.

“Changmin-sshi, I have to go.”

Sitting opposite Yunho in this quaint little coffee shop, he imagines that they would make a pretty decent stock photo image under the category of “gay couple”. Right on cue, Yunho seemed to notice the girls seated at the other end of the cafe who had been glancing at them for a good part of the last ten minutes and holds his hand even tighter. 

Changmin sucks in a breath at the sensation, his fingers frozen as he hesitates. A familiar feeling stirs in his chest and he isn’t sure if he’s ready for that yet, not again. But he recognises a quiet determination in Yunho eyes as he looks at where their hands are joined and up to his eyes, and he can’t help but think that this will end differently. 

His train of thought gets broken by the sound of Yunho’s phone vibrating, a sort of panic unsettling the calm that he had finally eased into when Yunho’s expression falls at reading the message on his phone. 

_“Changmin-ssi, I have to go.”_

He flounders and holds onto his hand as he pulls back. He wants just a while more with him. If not today, then in the future. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone.

“Maybe you can give me your number? And I can treat you to coffee another time? As a thank you, for today.”

“I’d like that.” 

The smile that uncurls across Yunho’s face threatens to feel too wide and he tries to play it cool, but it’s very hard to do so when he sees Changmin fumbling with the phone. It gives him courage to realise that maybe he’s not the only one who doesn’t want this afternoon to end. Instead of rattling off his number, he borrows a pen from a waitress who’s walking past and takes one of Changmin’s hands. Turns it so that the palm is facing up and, very carefully, writes each digit onto the stretch of soft skin near the wrist. He has to stifle a grin at how Changmin had gone stiff and once he’s done, he brings the hand to his mouth and blows at the ink. Slowly.

“There,” he says, raising his eyes to catch Changmin’s. “Now you know how to find me.”

Yunho gets to his feet, still reluctant to leave but knowing he has no choice this time around. He collects the hand bouquet and hesitates, before leaning over to place it in front of Changmin.

“It was nice meeting you, Changmin-sshi.”

Cheeks, Changmin thinks, should not feel this warm, unless the owner of said cheeks, have a fever, or something equally or more disastrous that is chipping away the rest of his lifespan. But on the contrary, the violent beating of his heart against his ribcage and the blood rushing past his ears have done nothing but heighten his senses to an acute degree, as the warmth of Yunho’s fingers pressing against his palm contrasts with the cool, blunt tip of the pen gliding across his skin. His fingers curl out of his own volition, moving as if to close the distance between them and Yunho’s face that is close enough that he feels his every gentle exhale on the tip of his fingers. He tenses and measures his breath, desperately scrambling at the last scraps of his sanity.

Then Yunho purses his lips just a hair’s breadth away from the sensitive skin of his wrist, and blows.

Changmin was later quite proud that he did not literally, as he did figuratively, spontaneously combust. 

When Yunho stands to leave, Changmin moves to send him off, but ends up with his butt still firmly stuck on the chair, his lips parting and closing in silence. He somehow conjures up a smile when Yunho bids farewell, his expression painfully smitten.

“I’ll see you again, Yunho-sshi.”

He sits there for a long while afterwards. His eyes lingering at the street corner which Yunho’s back disappeared, before turning his attention to the bouquet of yellow and white on the table. 

Daffodils.

_New beginnings_.

He leans back in his chair and turns the wrist tattooed with ink upwards, his other hand moving to trace each number with the tip of his index, remembering the way Yunho’s eyebrows furrowed in concentration when he inked his skin. His smile comes unrestrained when he reaches the end of the series of numbers, where a simple smiley is drawn. He bites his lips, the corner of his mouth lifted upwards. He feels fireworks in his chest, like the tightly folded petals of a bud unfurling slowly but surely, eager to bask in the warmth of the sun’s rays again. 

He picks up his phone and keys in the number. 

.

**end (for now :)**

.


End file.
